The Wolf, the Witch, and Caroline's Wardrobe
by booboobegone
Summary: KLAROLINE! A fun fluffy romp; or at least as far as I allow myself to write these. Let me know what you guys think and if you all want more comedy from me.


The Wolf, the Witch, and Caroline's Wardrobe.

On her hands and knees scrubbing because cleaning was a balm. Cleaning was relaxing, though to look at her you wouldn't think so because she was in such a frenzy at the moment. And cleaning actually let her forget about /him/. And the cleaning/forgetting actually worked right up until she came to the mini fridge that he bought her after graduation. Then all those feelings and the memories and the /wants/ just came bubbling up and there she was, frustrated because that stupid, idiotic, lame, /evil/ hybrid was sticking to his word and he /hadn't/ come back.

Not even once.

And Caroline /knew/ he had a good time; five times had a good time.

Ugh. Why did he have to be so annoyingly good at keeping his word? The /one/ time she didn't want him to.

Crap.

So there she was, hands encased in yellow rubber gloves, crumpled rag clutched in one of the fists angled onto her hips as she surveyed the sparkling room. She sighed.

She was out of options to forget and she couldn't ask Bonnie, /again/ for some sort of forgetting tonic. Bonnie was very firm, Caroline couldn't get rid of her true feelings with a tonic or a spell. And typical Bonnie reactions were the "not really helping me to be a better witch Care." And "just call him, tell him you want to see him."

She /so/couldn't do that.

Because that meant that she felt something other than hostility and revulsion and that there was a connection between them after all that not even her eyes could hide.

The rag gets flung into the corner like a cotton rocket followed by the gloves, rubber rockets this time, and she stomps her foot. And with no prospective boys on her watch list, the ache that slides through her veins makes her edgy.

Damn Bonnie.

Damn everything.

And damn that sexy hybrid.

She needed to change and get out of here before she succumbed to her desires (again) and got in some solo time.

No.

She would be proactive and sort this out and find a date. So, with this renewed purpose, she made her way to the wardrobe in the corner of her dorm room and flung open the door where she was instantly assaulted by blue taffeta and ivory pearls. Both gorgeous dresses hung with care for their quality and condition, both redolent with /his/ scent. She inhales, exhales, moans quietly as she is also assaulted by memories from the five times in the woods and the obscene way she's holding the blue dress is a source of utter mortification when /his/ voice floats into her ear.

"Hello Caroline..."

She spins in place, hitting him across his too handsome face with yards of tulle and beads and taffeta and she screeches.

"OHMYGODYOUSCAREDMEHALFTODEATHHOWLONGHAVEYOUBEENSTANDINGTHERE!"

He smiles that evil/sexy/I'm going to eat you alive and you'll beg for more smile and reaches out to touch her face.

"I know that you have plans, a future, things that you want and none of then include me, and I know that I promised to never come back to Mystic Falls..."

He leans in to kiss her cheek and she swoons.

"But this isn't Mystic Falls is it?"

She's on him before he can even finish talking with her long legs wrapping his waist and her lips on his and she lets that blue taffeta dream fall to the floor in a heap. She grinds against him and purrs when she finds him like iron behind the zipper of his jeans, his lips familiar and soft and his taste, god his taste is driving her /crazy/.

He spins her and pins her against the side of the wardrobe and the force of that action causes it to rock back against the wall with a walnut thud, the ivory beaded dress landing next to the blue taffetta dream on the floor and later, later she'll marvel at the pattern of the tulle and pearls in her skin, but now, now she rips his black Henley down the middle and drags her fingers down his chest, hips undulating, which makes him growl, and then swear.

Her shirt goes and she squeaks. (that's two!)

then he's a little more careful with her bra while her shaking fingers find his belt and zipper and that's when he shouts and lowers her to the floor; onto the blue and white dresses(that's how the tulle marks began) and paws off her jeans.

And he's smiling now, and she's smiling and then they're kissing and her head spins and she tears his jeans off.

Like wow, she'd forgotten how strong she was.

And, holy crap he's not wearing underwear...

And he's freaking /huge/!

She'd blocked that out, because if she'd let herself remember she wouldn't have been able to /not/ go to NOLA and jump him; kinda like now.

"Greedy Caroline..."

"Shut /up/...!" She scowls and pulls him toward her by his erection and he chuckles and that freaking accent is like another kind of sex to her and that's when he fills her.

No warning at all as he glides home into her wet channel and begins to move. Fast, hard, the way she needs him to move and she whimpers and arches and moans and whispers his name over and over and he loves her there, his scruffy face hovering above hers, watching as she drags her nails down his shoulders and practically sobs as her insides go tight, and then loose and she climaxes, right there, and he whispers something obscene, dirty and drives that totally magnificent cock into her over and over and she cries out again, lost and blind and he grunts, losing his pace and his way, driven just as far, just as fast and all amidst the crunch and rustle of the fabric beneath her, his voice a guttural rasp of choked desire.

"Fucking god Caroline...!"

And he lets go too, the feel of his stiff length emptying inside her sending her over again and she has to cling to his shoulders or be lost to the throes of the intense pleasure in which they both find themselves.

It takes a few /long/ minutes before any /actual/ words are spoken and it's Klaus that speaks first.

(And there's the sexy voice again; she could /hate/ him for that but she doesn't.)

"Looks like I'll need a new outfit, as you've torn my clothes in your impatience love..."

She narrows her eyes up into his too handsome British face.

Then she smiles, the light of the devil shining in her angelic blue eyes.

"There's this really pretty blue dress we just fucked on, I think it would make your eyes pop..."

She doesn't get to finish, her teasing lost to the sounds of her low moans as he shifts her atop him and palms both breasts.

"Shut up Caroline..."

And that's how he ends up with tulle marks and bead marks imprinted into his bare arse like colourless tattoos.


End file.
